


I need to wake up, I need me some love...

by WonderBoy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderBoy/pseuds/WonderBoy
Summary: Alexei wiggles around until he is lying besides Kent, his legs still draped over Kent’s own. Kent’s face is flushed from laughing at his antics.“You’re ridiculous. Why am I marrying you again?” Kent grumbles. His grin takes away from any bite his words might have had.Alexei smiles and snuggles closer to him. “Because you love me. And I’m having best ‘hockey bod.’” “You do have great abs.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [f_ckromeoandjuliet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ckromeoandjuliet/gifts).



> "This did not go at all how I thought it would," I say as if that doesn't happen every time I try to write something :'^)
> 
> This is indulgent fluff with no plot but I hope you enjoy anyways!
> 
> Happy Holidays to everyone, but especially f_ckromeoandjuliet (for who this story is dedicated to) and omgchequeplease/OutandAround (my amazing friend/beta who helped me out even though she doesn't ship this <3)
> 
> *Title is from Helplessly by Tatiana Manaois. It doesn't actually have anything to do with the story or how I got the idea but its a cute song anyways if y'all wanna check it out!

Kent wakes up alone, in a bed much too large for just him. The dark sheets are pooled around his bare waist, despite it being December. Rather than rolling out of bed and getting started with his day, Kent blindly feels for the large comforter he kicked off at some point in the night and tugs it over his head. Determined to get more sleep, he closes his eyes against the morning light seeping in through the fabric and burrows even deeper into the blankets.

Five minutes later he only feels more awake. Groaning, Kent reaches for the other side of the bed. It’s cold. Meaning his fiancé had likely been up for at least an hour. And probably has no intention of returning to bed. He groans again for good measure, louder this time, for the small off chance that Alexei would hear it and return to bed to cuddle for another hour or so.

Alexei does not hear him. Or he ignores him if he does. Wiggling in his blanket cocoon, Kent grabs Alexei’s pillow and buries his face in it. It smells like him, though it’s mostly just the scent of his shampoo. Kent knows he smells like Alexei right now too, he’s staying with him for the week and there’s no point trying to bring his own toiletries with him when he knows Alexei has enough. Not to mention it saves him from dealing with the airport staff and their rules more than absolutely necessary. But it never feels the same. The first time Kent had borrowed Alexei’s things, there was the thrill of sharing something intimate, catching a whiff of Alexei even when they weren’t together. Kent quickly learned, however, that it was something about the warm musk of Alexei’s body wash or the sharp mint of his shampoo, mixed with Alexei’s own natural scent, that Kent liked so much. He could really go either way on the soaps themselves.

The best way to keep a lingering feeling of Alexei throughout the day was by wearing his clothes. Kent wasn’t wearing any clothing currently, but now that he had the idea in his head, he wondered if he could get away with stealing some for the day. It wouldn’t work if they were going out, Kent drowned in most things borrowed from his fiancé but, if they were just staying in his apartment…

Kent’s brainstorming session for clothes theft is interrupted by the bedroom door opening. Kent doesn’t bother to move as Alexei makes his way into the room. He’s muttering to himself in Russian, and Kent can only catch about a quarter of what he’s saying. Kent’s Russian was getting better, but only slightly. He would be the first to admit he was not fluent, and even less so in the morning.

Kent hears Alexei place something down on the bedside table with a soft _clink,_ but before he can ponder what it might be, Alexei flops onto the bed-on top of _him,_ more accurately.

“ _Доброе утро, Котенок,_ ” Alexei greets. Kent can _hear_ the shit-eating grin he’s wearing.

“Jesus fuck Alyosha.” Kent wheezes. Attempting to move while under a six foot four hockey player is pointless, but Kent tries anyways.

After a few moments, and Alexei lightening up slightly, Kent is unearthed from the blankets. Big brown eyes smile down at him. Kent half-heartedly pushes him.

“Move, you big lug.”

Alexei does move, but not off of Kent. He wiggles around until he is lying beside the blond, his legs still draped over Kent’s own. Kent’s face is flushed from laughing at his antics.

“You’re ridiculous. Why am I marrying you again?” Kent grumbles. His grin takes away from any bite his words might have had.

Alexei smiles and snuggles closer to him. “Because you love me. And I’m having best ‘hockey bod.’”

Kent looks over Alexei’s shirtless torso. “You do have great abs.”

“The best.” Alexei corrects, pressing a kiss to Kent’s temple.

Kent rolls his eyes, which only seems to encourage Alexei, who begins to pepper his face with kisses. Kent basks in the attention for a few minutes before he pushes away.

“Sorry Alyosha, lemme at least go brush my teeth. I’m sure my morning breath is rank as hell right now.”

Alexei, finally, moves so that he is no longer pinning Kent to the bed. “It is.”

Kent shoves his shoulder as he sits up. “Asshole.”

Alexei giggles- _fucking giggles_ -into his pillow. But he looks up at Kent with a ridiculous love struck gaze and Kent can’t even fault him for it, because he is sure he has the same expression.

Kent throws off the blankets, determined to brush his teeth so he can kiss his damn fiancé without worrying about being gross, and climbs out of bed. It isn’t until he is standing next to the bedside table that he finally sees it.

Alexei made breakfast.

The tray fills most of the table top. It’s overcrowded with two plates, two cups of juice, plus two coffee mugs and silverware, and it’s nothing particularly special-eggs and toast-but Kent feels a tightening in his chest looking at it anyways. It’s simple and messy and yet so perfect for the two of them. Of their shared a life. He kind of wants to take a picture and share it for everyone to see, like it was their goddamn wedding day or something.

They don’t even know when that’ll be. The Wedding is some far off, vague idea they haven’t spent time worrying about yet. Neither of them are looking to retire soon, and if they don’t get traded, their lives are nearly across the country from each other. When retirement seems closer, or they live closer, that’s when they plan to plan the damn thing. It works because it’s them. Casual. Just like everything in their relationship had been.

When they first hooked up, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was in Vegas, after the second Aces vs Falcs game since Jack had joined the team. The Falconers won, which stung, but it was fitting after the Aces beat them in Providence months before. Kent also wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the win as much anyways because his boys had played like shit that night. Say what you want about “Typical Aces Hockey” but Kent didn’t just let his team free-for-all out there, and he was ashamed in the way some of them acted on the ice.  He stopped for a drink out, because he didn’t have anything at home and the bar was closer to his apartment than the store, and ran into the Falconers having a celebratory dinner. It was subdued, hard to celebrate much out after away games, but they were obviously enjoying themselves. Kent wasn’t sure why he wanted to subject himself to their sour looks and snide comments but after two drinks he found himself in front of their table, apologizing for the way his team had behaved that night, and congratulating them on their win. For a moment the table was dead silent and then Jack- _Jack_ -thanked him. And asked if he wanted to have a drink with them. Before he knew it, Kent was talking about the season and shootin’ the shit with them like they were good friends. He still suspects copious amounts of alcohol, and their win, had a lot to do with it. Eventually the team started to break off, some going back to the hotel, some to find more drinks, or dance. Likely encouraged by the other odd going-ons of the night, Kent had asked Jack to dance with him.

“I guarantee I have not gotten any better since we were younger.” Jack said with an odd smile that Kent couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t quite a no, so he was prepared to push a little more.

Alexei Mashkov, “Tater,” offered to dance with him before he had the chance.

They joined a number of other Falconers on the dance floor, all looking like the drunk idiots they were. The dancing was casual at first, nothing more than friendly wiggling around in a crowded space but a slower song came on and Tater moved in closer.

“I’m sorry about…ah…man-handling? In game. Anger got best of me on ice.”

Kent nodded. He understood. It wasn’t the first time someone had roughed him up on the ice, wouldn’t be the last. He opened his mouth to tell him as much, but because Kent was more alcohol than sense by that point, what came out instead was: “It was fucking hot actually.”

Kent doesn’t remember how they got back to his apartment that night, but he knows he sucked Tater off at least twice before they parted ways the next afternoon and he learned Tater’s hands were good at a lot more than picking him up (though that was a plus).

What was supposed to be a one-time thing became an “After Intense Games (Against Each Other)” thing. Which then became an “After Every Game (Against Each Other)” thing. After that it was after away games whenever they were close enough to each other to warrant a visit, without people asking too many questions. Kent isn’t totally sure when he realized they stopped using actual excuses to visit each other, and when “just hooking up” changed to occasional hook ups with lots of making out and lounging on each other’s sofas, eating leftover take out, but by that point he was attached.  

When Zimms came out as the first NHL player with his unfairly adorable boyfriend earlier this year, Kent had said to Alexei, “Let’s just come out when we get married. Give these assholes less time to speculate on our relationship.”

Alexei had stared at him like he had grown another head until Kent realized what he said; “When we get married,” not “if we get married.”  They hadn’t talked about their future together in such long terms ever, and yet here he was talking like it was a definite. Kent had immediately tried to backpedal, tripping over his own words until Alexei silenced him with a breathless kiss and hopeful, glittering eyes.

Later, Alexei chirped him to hell and back for proposing in such a way.

Even later, Alexei pulled off an obnoxious proposal involving most of the Aces, plus a few Falconers, Kit, and obscene amounts of glitter. Kent keeps his engagement ring on a chain around his neck if he’s in public. In private, he never takes it off his hand.

Their relationship was casual and worked because their feelings for each other were anything but.

Kent looks away from the breakfast and points at Alexei. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. Then I am going to kiss the hell out of you. We are going to eat this delicious breakfast you made. Then I’m going to blow you.”

Alexei’s eyes glittered back at him. “ _Я тебя люблю_.”

Kent shook his head as he went to Alexei’s bathroom. When he rejoins Alexei in bed, he is immediately kissed; long and deep. When they brake for air, Alexei presses softer, chaste kisses against Kent’s throat before he says it again. Я тебя люблю. _I love you._ It wasn’t the first time he heard it, hell it probably wasn’t even the hundredth time he had heard it, but Alexei’s words still made his heart race and his entire being feel flushed and warm. Loved.

Rather than replying in kind, Kent says, “You’re easy.”

Alexei snorts against his shoulder. “Ha. You are one seduced by breakfast.”

“Seduced? I knew you were only using me for my body.”

“Mm, I marry for ‘hot bod’ too. Is okay.”   

Kent shoves his shoulder but Alexei only laughs more. Until Kent all but shoves his tongue in his mouth to silence him. Alexei mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “sloppy.” Alexei’s teasing turns into a moan as Kent bites his lip and he is suddenly much more invested in their morning make-out session. Rolling over onto his back, Alexei pulls Kent on top of him, a bruising grip against Kent’s hipbones.  Rocking against him, Kent buries his hands in Alexei’s curls.

His stomach promptly growls.

“Hungry, _Котенок_?”

“Apparently,” Kent grumbles, not moving off of his fiancé, despite his body’s protests.

Alexei sighs, almost fondly, rubbing his hands up and down Kent’s sides.

“Let’s eat, _Котенок_. Finish later.” Kent whines but Alexei is not dissuaded. “Delicious breakfast getting cold.” He urges.

Kent makes a show of disliking the change but rolls off of Alexei to grab their breakfast. Setting the tray on his lap, Kent digs into the food while Alexei readjusts himself on the bed.

Two bites in, Kent stops. “It _must_ be the abs because I’m definitely not marrying you for your cooking skills.”

Alexei steals a bite of food from Kent’s plate before he laughs. “Zimmboni and Itty Bitty invite us for dinner tonight. Make up for this.”

Kent pushes the tray from his lap, turning back to Alexei with a smirk. “Works for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> All of my knowledge of Russian is from the Internet and a handful of words a friend of mine taught me that I promptly forgot the meaning of so I apologize if any of this is wrong (and please feel free to correct me if it is).
> 
> *Доброе утро, Котенок - Good morning, Kitten.  
> *Я тебя люблю - I love you


End file.
